Oh. Hi. How are you? Anyone still out there? Did I lose both of you? Wondering where I was? What I was doing? Why I haven’t written? Who I am? Well…I’ll pretend you’re nodding and explain. Or better yet – I’ll give you a choice of explanations and you pick your fav.

I’ve been super busy with my glamorous lifestyle and haven’t had a minute to stop to post all the sexy details.

I’m so dedicated to my husband and my kids that my entire focus has been on them.

Work has sucked me in and I barely have time to breathe let alone write a blog!

I got locked out of my account on WordPress. Then I realized that a new password would be sent to my email that I started the blog with. Then I realized that I started the blog with an email from my old job. Then I realized that I no longer have access to that email. Then I called WordPress and they said I should start a new blog…and say sayonara to all my old posts. Then I cried and sat shiva for my blog, decided it was over and tried to go about my business. Then I thought I’d start a new blog with different topics, etc. Maybe this was my chance to grow and change! Then I realized I love my little blog and I had no interest in growing and changing. So I called WordPress back and spoke to a “tech”, which means I paid a fee to get my old blog back – which I wish was presented as an option to me during the first call. Then I wrote an email to WordPress telling them that their customer service was terrible and it caused me days of pain. Then they refunded my money and said they were sorry.

I had to finish House of Cards season 3.

Only one of these is the reason – although I did finish season 3 of House of Cards (it’s Claire’s world, Frank is just living in it).

As a blogger I get lots of “helpful” emails. You know, with suggestions on how, what and who to write about. It’s awesome. I also get the usual snarky comments. Those are awesome too. My favorite was an email telling me that I’m using the word awesome wrong. Awesome.
Anyway I’m open to all commentary. When a helpful reader sent me a clip of a New York Times article on the abuse of the em dash (-), I didn’t take offense – and I certainly didn’t stop using it – ahem.
But last week I got an email telling me to stop putting two spaces after a period. This helpful, anonymous reader informed me that I no longer have to follow that golden rule.
Wait. What?
She even sent me a helpful illustration.

Apparently when I learned to type, on an actual typewriter in the dark ages known as the 80s, the rules were based on spacial issues – not right and wrong. Typewriter letters were in monospace (all letters get the same amount of room) and smarty party computer letters are in proportional space (different letters need different amounts of room). Basically, more letters fit within a given space. And because this reader obviously knows me, she sent me a picture to illustrate.

So boom.
The rule is no longer needed. Did you all know this? Did I miss this announcement? Was there a tweet? The only people who use two spaces anymore are the same people who still leave voicemail messages. ME!
All those red marks from all those teachers that programmed me to leave two spaces after punctuation are non-existent.
Thanks for nothing Mrs. Manning. 2nd grade was almost unnecessary. Ok, got it. I’ll catch-up. My new world is about twerking, getting semi-nude to board a plane and Ebola – awesome.

Yesterday was a big blog day around here – wifemothereventplanner turned 3. Happy Birthday blog. Mazel to us! It’s been so much fun. Yes I don’t write as often as I should, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still in love… With blogging. Absence makes the heart grow fonder right? Ahem.

Connected to this blog is an email, wifemothereventplanner@gmail.com.
I don’t check it often because it’s a scary, dark place where weirdo people from the internet lurk and hide. But buried in that pile of crap are actual, normal humans asking questions. So! As my gift to you – because I’m a humanitarian like that – I’ll answer a few of those questions. Enjoy! And be scared for me.

Are those your real kids or do you get the photos from stock photography? I’m starting a blog but don’t have kids – should I get some photos of kids?

Umm. Yes. Those are my real kids. Although I never even considered the stock photography option. Look for a future post of me wearing a bikini on the beach. It’ll totally be me.

Easy, if I think you’ll enjoy it in any way I write it. I don’t write as editorial -many bloggers do that successfully. But giving you my opinions on politics, religion, etc isn’t my bag. I don’t think you really want to read another take on Obamacare or Prop 8. I do think you want to read about my obsession with Kate Middleton! Am I right?

You should change your name to TVloverwhonevercommentsoneventplanning.

Wow. Ok, point taken. More posts about TV shows.

Please protect your kids and stop posting their pictures.

Thanks mom.

What advice would you give to new bloggers? Is it worth it?

No advice. Just start writing. There are no rules. And it’s definitely worth it.

We don’t live in a small town. It’s not a city by any means, but it’s big. 5 Starbucks in a 3 mile radius big. But yesterday, as I ran some errands, I realized I’ve carved out a pretty unusual niche for myself. I’ve got people. I’ve got towns folk. I’ve got peeps that I know. And by “know” I mean I speak to them on a semi-daily basis.

Nice lady at The Bagel Train – she and I go way back. Any woman who can supply me with that much warm bread is a keeper. But our conversations don’t stop there. Last year I got into a Zumba class frenzy (I’ve been cured since) and I’d see her at some of the classes in the local community center. This is what warm bread love gets you. We’d always wave hello from across the way and then I’d hide behind some moms in the back. These past few weeks I’ve been chatting her up about a new restaurant that opened up on Main Street. Even though neither one of us has tried it we’ve decided it sucks. She’s so great. And she smells like an everything bagel.

Family that owns the dry cleaners – now this is good. The Mae’s immigrated here from Korea in 1974. They lived in Queens, NY for the majority of the 80’s. The father and mother both got jobs at a local dry cleaner in their neighborhood and saved enough money to buy a store of their own. Then they bought another. And another. In between, they had a son and a daughter. The son (like his father) is an amazing golfer – he went to school in Florida on scholarship and now lives in Augusta,Ga with his family. How do I know all this? Because every time I drop off the laundry, I’d notice that the dad was watching the golf channel. Although I don’t play – I’ve run enough tournaments to talk the talk. We connected. We were one. Kinda. Anyway, they moved to our town because their daughter was accepted to Princeton. So they sold all the other stores, bought one here and decided to stay. She’s since graduated and moved to California. They also have a lovely Ecuadorian family that works there. A husband and wife (she just had their 4th boy!) I love the Mae’s.

Susan and Reese at CVS – Susan is the morning manager. She gets to the store at 6am and stays until 2pm. We bonded over all the photos I get printed there. She always gives me the pictures at the discounted coupon price even though I don’t have the actual coupons. Don’t tell anyone. Reese is a 19-year-old cashier that works there. He looks like a frat boy whose gonna give you a bad attitude – but in reality, he’s the nicest dude ever. I’ve never seen someone with a bigger smile while they haul cases of water around. I got to know him because Susan is his mom. There are two of these stores that bookend my neighborhood. One of them is much closer than the other – but I go the longer distance for the both of them. I’m a weirdo stalker like that.

I love people.

There’s also the quirky gal at Wines and Spirits and Raj at Dunkin Donuts, but you get the point.

Holiday.
It isn’t just a Madonna song anymore.
It’s what this blog is doing. Or more importantly – not doing.
Just a mini break.
A short rest.
A small respite.
You get the picture. (Incase you didn’t I included photos)
Just trying to make you jealous.
Just a little bit.
Later suckers… With your jobs and responsibilities and what not.
I can’t relate. Not for 2 more days.

oh hi. It’s me. Remember? Did ya even notice I wasn’t writing for a bit? Like a long bit?

I had some technical issues. Technically I decided to spend all my free time sleeping instead of writing this blog.

In defense of me, I have been sick. Is it a cold? Allergies? Who knows, and I’m certainly not going to a doctor to find out. To add to the fun, life has been a tailspin of activity.

But things are slowly unwinding. School is almost over. All major religious rights-of-passage celebrations have come to an end (for now). Work is still insane, but lately it’s taken a turn for interesting, which makes me less likely to daydream about being a coal miner (seriously. have you ever thought about it? Aside from the life threatening aspect – it sounds perfect. Solitary. repetitive. One singular goal. No need to shower in the morning. That’s my kinda job).

May was a blur, but it’s June 1st. Time to get back on the blogging horse. I can’t make any promises, I have to be honest. I’ve enjoyed sleeping.

Here’s some random pictures that could and should have been blog posts but I was in deep REM mode instead.

This post would have been titled: 17 years of marriage yo! See, child brides do make it work sometimes.

I would have called this post: I-know-you’re-obsessed-with-karate-and-doing-a-perfect-split-but-I’d-really-like-grandkids-someday-so-please-be-careful

The below photo was taken by my girl at a concert that she’d been waiting to go to for months. All her favorite bands were going to be there. It started at 1pm in an outdoor venue by the water. The day before the concert we found out that all the bands that she wanted to hear weren’t even coming on until 9pm. On a Sunday night. And the concert wouldn’t end until closer to 11:30pm. On a Sunday night. What happened next cleanly, swiftly and neatly explains how different my husband and I are, not just in parenting, but also down to our core.

When she told us her sad tale, my reaction was,” bummer. guess you’ll be missing all those bands since we’ll be picking you up at 7.” My husband’s reaction was,” ok. So I’ll buy a ticket and go to the concert with you so you don’t have to miss those bands.” WTF?